Light Years Between Us
by Fiona Robinson
Summary: A new home and the prospect of a normal life affect John and Helena in surprising ways.
1. Part 1

**Light Years Between Us**

Disclaimer: _Space: 1999 is the property of ITC. This story was written for entertainment purposes only. I own none of their characters or situations. This is, after all, only for fun._

_Note: If you are a firm believer that Koenig and Russell are destined only for each other, until the end of time, you may hate this story. Likewise if you're a die-hard sci-fi fan who expects space brains, things with tentacles, or deep philosophical arguments. This time, I'm afraid, it's all about the characters._

As the first light of dawn crept through the tiny bedroom window, Helena Russell gave up on sleep. Dawn. She still couldn't get used to it, the same way she still couldn't adjust to sleeping alone again

She smiled wryly as she slipped on a robe, thinking of a country music song her late husband, Lee, had sometimes warbled in the shower. "Sleeping single in a double bed." She hadn't heard that song for years – she was sure it must be in Alpha's music library, somewhere, but for a long time the idea of hearing it had been too painful, and now she was too far away from the library to access it anyway. Either way, she wasn't about to expend any extra effort to hear Crystal Gayle or Tammy Wynette or whoever it was, just to dredge up another old memory.

Helena showered, dressed, and decided to take a walk before opening the infirmary for the day. The nurse, Patty Harkin, had the day off, and Helena clipped her comlock securely to her belt before she left, just in case someone needed her. She was, after all, the only doctor around for miles.

As she followed her favorite path, away from the tiny settlement and into the woods that sheltered them from the wind and snow, she wondered again how long it would take her to get used to breathing fresh air and seeing sunrises. The Alphans had settled the planet two years before, abandoning their moon base for the promise of abundant resources. They had been lucky – as part of the Command staff and head of Life Support, Helena had been aware that their chances for survival on Alpha had become extremely limited. The decision to "abandon ship", although it brought with it the frightening prospect of failure, had been the right one.

Establishing a new community had not come without its personal costs. Though for the most part the Alphans were hopeful about their new lives, some had been gripped with fear and despair – Helena and her medical staff had spent months counseling technicians who now faced lives as farmers, people with doctorates who were paralyzed with the sheer volume of hard physical labor their survival suddenly demanded. She had counseled women who desperately wanted children, but who were terrified of condemning them to a life of drudgery.

And she had seen her own relationship disintegrate, worn away by the demands that this new life had placed on both her and John Koenig, once Alpha's Commander.

The transition had been easier for her, Helena reflected. After all, everyone still needed doctors – now more than ever. But the order of things had been disrupted. Alphans had shed their uniforms, and with them, their desire for their old ways. They were as hard working and dedicated as ever, but they wanted – and needed – to establish a new way of life. John had understood and accepted that, and was willing to give up command to a council, but it seemed the rest of the community did not want to let him go as leader.

So between building houses, tilling fields, healing the sick and establishing a government, John and Helena somehow lost each other. She wondered now if their relationship had been born out of fear, the need for physical comfort in the face of constant uncertainty. It certainly seemed that way – that once the uncertainty had gone, they were struck silent and numb, unable to connect and unwilling to figure out why. Everyone had thought they would marry – indeed, a brush with an alternative universe had deemed it their fate – but they hadn't, and now there were light-years between them, even when they slept side by side.

Faced with that, Helena had jumped at the chance to help establish the infirmary at the new mining settlement. It was only a six-month tour, mainly to give Patty in-depth medical training, and Helena knew it would give her the time she needed to clear her head and let the gossip die down. Alpha had always been a tightly knit community – with everyone living in such close quarters for so long, it could be no other way. Her fellow doctor, Bob Mathias, had once jokingly called it the smallest town in deep space.

Now, as she followed the path back along the edge of the woods, toward the infirmary, she thought of the last time she'd seen John. He'd come to see her off, his face a mixture of misery and weariness as he drew her away from the others.

She had waited for him to ask her to stay, but the words that came out of his mouth surprised her. "Be careful," he said.

"Of course," she said lightly, trying to smile at him. "You too."

He nodded. She waited again, but he was silent.

"I have to go," she said, drawing away from him, and as she stepped back, he reached out for her hand. His fingers squeezed hers once, firmly, before she turned away and climbed aboard the Eagle, too afraid to look back at him.

She had spent the entire flight trying not to cry, and the entire first night crying. And then, as was typical for her, she filed her conflicted emotions away and threw herself into her work. Not the healthiest practice, she knew, but the one she was used to, the one that got her through the days.

As she approached the infirmary she could see a figure standing near the building, shoulders hunched in the cool morning air, and her steps slowed as she recognized Tim Mendelson. He turned and lifted an arm to wave at her, and she smiled at him.

"Hi," she said. "Are you waiting for me?"

"Yeah, sorry. I'm out of aspirin." Guiltily, glanced at his cigarette, then down at the doctor. He shrugged. "Stress reliever."

Helena shook her head. "Honestly, Tim. I thought you'd given that up."

"I had. But only because I ran out of cigarettes in deep space. And then someone started growing that tobacco…"

Helena sighed. "Just keep in mind that I can't treat lung cancer very effectively."

Tim chuckled. "I'm pretty sure the mine will get me before this does."

"Let's not speculate about that, okay?" Helena opened the door to the infirmary and ushered Tim inside. She liked him – she always had. On Alpha, he had kept a low profile but offered up solutions to some of their most pressing resource problems. Some of his ideas had even enabled them to expand Life Support. Here, he headed up the mining operation, duties that encompassed everything from prospecting to providing moral support.

"Headache again?" she asked, as she unlocked the dispensary. Since her arrival he'd been in several times, always with the same complaint.

"Yeah. They're crazy, these headaches. Not bad. Just…annoying."

Helena nodded, handing him a bottle of aspirin. "They're probably due to changes in barometric pressure," she said. "Or – " she smiled suddenly – "those disgusting cigarettes."

"Let's go with the barometric pressure," he suggested, pocketing the bottle. He leaned against the doorframe. "Tell you what."

"What?"

"I'll quit smoking if you have dinner with me tonight."

Helena stared at him in surprise, feeling a blush creep over her cheeks. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then smiled a little. "I don't think that's a good idea," she said, softly.

"Why not? Do you already have a date?"

"Hardly."

"Then what's the problem?"

She was silent for a moment. "I'm not very good company these days," she said, finally.

"I find that hard to believe." He crossed his arms over his chest, his dark eyes twinkling. "Come on. I'm tired of inventing headaches. And I bet you're tired of eating upstairs, in that poky little room."

"What makes you think it's poky?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I built it. I _know_ it's poky." He shifted on his feet, reaching for the door. "You're not a nun," he said. "You should stop living like one."

"I'm not living like a nun," she said, her voice cool. "And it's _none_ of your business."

"No," he said, "you're right. But it _is_ just dinner." He shrugged, stepping through the door. "You know where to find me if you change your mind."

* * *

When Helena checked her e-mail at lunch, she found two messages: one from John and one from Tim. She read Tim's first, intrigued by the subject line. It was to the point, very much like him. "Sorry about this morning," she read. "But at least I went down in a blaze of glory. Offer still stands." 

Helena read John's next. Also short and direct, John had a way of asking how she was without revealing anything about himself. In the months she'd been away, he'd never let on that he missed her. She wondered if he actually did, or if he was contacting her out of habit. And then she wondered what they were holding on to.

She took a deep breath and went back to Tim's message. Helena hit "reply", and typed five quick words before she could change her mind. _7:00 okay? Meet me here._


	2. Part 2

Tim was ten minutes late. Helena had nervously wondered if he had even read her e-mail, and then she spied him coming up the path, smoking. She opened the door and stepped out into the cool night air.

"I thought you were quitting," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"My last one," he said, grinning, grinding it out with the heel of his boot. "Wow," he said. "Look at you."

Helena blushed. She hadn't gone to any extra trouble – a quick shower, a touch of makeup – but the compliment was nice. She thought it was funny how boundaries had shattered once they left Alpha. She doubted Tim would ever have said anything to her had she still been his superior. Here, he was the head of his own division; she was simply the town doctor.

There weren't many options in the tiny settlement – they ate in the canteen with everyone else. Helena didn't mind. In fact, sitting with the others eased the guilt that had started to grip her. She suddenly wondered what John was doing – was he eating at home, alone? Was he with Alan? Was he working? She gave herself a mental shake, wondering why she should feel guilty about having dinner with Tim. The answer came back at her with surprising speed:_ because you're attracted to him, Helena._

She had to admit, Tim was very attractive. She studied him over her rice pilaf, listening as he talked about the mining operation and what it meant for all of them. He was tall, maybe six-four. She knew he was forty-seven, almost exactly her age – she'd looked at his file often enough to know that. He had chestnut hair, dark brown eyes, a strong chin and a quick smile. His right index finger was crooked – he had fractured it during Breakaway. For some reason she remembered splinting it for him.

He stopped talking suddenly, and Helena realized she'd been staring. "Am I boring you?"

"Oh – no. Not at all. Sorry." She laughed a little, ducking her head. "I told you earlier I'm not very good company."

He grinned. "And I told you I find that hard to believe. So far I've been right and you haven't." He looked serious, suddenly. "Are you lonely up here, Helena?"

She sipped her wine, considering. "No," she said. "Well. Sometimes."

"What made you come up here?"

"John," she said, without thinking. Then she laughed, softly. "I don't mean he sent me away. I mean…I mean it was the easiest way for us to figure out what to do next."

Tim nodded. "I figured."

Helena raised an eyebrow, pushing her pilaf around on her plate. "What made you come up here?"

Tim grinned. "My desperate passion for deep, dark mines," he said. "And the hordes of single, available women."

Helena looked around the canteen. She could count three women, besides herself, among the fifty men there. "I see that," she said, smirking. She took another sip of her wine.

They stayed until the canteen was almost empty, drinking wine and talking about what they'd done before Alpha, where they'd lived, what their families were like. After a few pointed looks from the staff, they put on their coats and started the leisurely walk back to the infirmary, continuing their conversation. Tim told her he'd been married once, right out of school, to his college sweetheart.

"It didn't last," he said. "I came home one day and she was gone. She took everything with her."

"Everything?"

"Well," he smiled, wryly. "She left me the washer and dryer, and one place setting."

Helena wanted to laugh. "You're kidding?"

"Nope. But I deserved it. I was a self-absorbed asshole." He shrugged. "I was all about space, all about the Ph.D. I had no time for her, or us."

"And then?" she prompted, looking up at the clear night sky.

"And then. The Ph.D. Space. Alpha, and lots and lots of space. So in essence, I got exactly what I asked for."

"I guess we all did."

"Have you ever asked all us Alphans if we were hiding from something when we moved to the moon?" he asked, suddenly.

"No," Helena said. "I don't need to."

* * *

He knocked on her door again two nights later. She was working, catching up on the administrative drudgery that she'd been pointedly avoiding for a week.

"It's movie night at the canteen," he said, his breath frosty. "You interested?"

"I'm working."

"Oh, come on," he coaxed. "It's _Pride of the Yankees_."

Helena bit down on her lip. "Then definitely not," she said. It was one of John's favorites.

"Not a baseball fan?"

She shook her head. "Sorry. I have a ton of work to do."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "All right, if you say so. Just thought I'd ask."

"Thanks." She smiled at him. "Bob is waiting for these reports, is all. And if I don't send them…"

"All right, all right. I get your point. If you're done in three hours, come by for a drink." He grinned. "I mean, if the other nuns will allow it."

She rolled her eyes. "Go. Get out." Helena shut the door behind him, leaning against it and wondering what she'd gotten herself into. Then she pushed up her sleeves and decided to e-mail John.

Helena had almost convinced herself she hadn't gotten into anything when Tim appeared at the infirmary again, the next Monday. She came out of her office, just before dinnertime, to find him standing in the waiting room, and she briefly wondered how he timed his visits to coincide with Patty's absences.

"Let me guess," she said, before he could speak. "Another headache?"

Tim chuckled. "Sorry, no."

"Hm." She leaned against the desk, her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. "What, then?"

"Dinner?"

Helena was silent for a moment, considering. "I shouldn't," she said.

"You shouldn't have dinner?"

"_We_ shouldn't."

"We shouldn't have dinner in a room full of fifty other people?" he asked.

Helena shook her head, frustrated. "Don't be obtuse. You know what I mean." She forced out her breath in a rush and suddenly became very interested in the files Patty had left for her to look over. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea."

"Helena," he said, after a moment, and something in the tone of his voice made her stop what she was doing. "It's just dinner. I was just hoping for someone to share some bad wine and good conversation with."

She felt herself nodding, embarrassment washing over her. "I'm sorry," she said, rubbing her forehead. "Let me get my coat and my comlock."

But over dinner she was distracted – she barely tasted the food on her plate or the acidic red wine, and she was so silent that Tim gave up on conversation and decided to use the direct approach.

"Hey," he said, pushing his plate away, "what's the matter?"

Helena shrugged, smiling a little. "Nothing, why?"

"I'm pretty much having dinner by myself over here," he said. "You aren't even eating. What's bugging you?"

She shook her head, running her finger along the rim of her glass. "This wine really is terrible," she said.

"Helena." He put his hand over hers, and she felt her breath leave her chest at the contact. "You're blowing hot and cold. Stop it and tell me what's bugging you."

Helena drew her hand away. "I'm sorry," she said, for what felt like the tenth time that evening. "I guess I feel guilty."

"About what?" he asked, and she looked down at her plate, concentrating on the way her fork speared a carrot. "About John?"

She nodded.

"Why? Because you're having dinner with a friend? Because he's a flight away and hasn't been up here to see you _once_ the entire time you've been here?" Tim looked incredulous. "Why should you feel guilty about that? He doesn't seem to."

Helena felt her throat close over, her eyes sting with tears, and she shook her head, angry with herself. She pushed her chair back, unable to look up at him, and picked up her coat, heading out of the canteen before she could make a bigger fool out of herself than she already had. She ducked her head against the chilly autumn wind and headed back toward the infirmary, berating herself the entire way for losing her grip, for confusing the situation, for not knowing what she was supposed to do next.

_So much for clearing your head_, Helena thought, blinking away hot tears. She reached up and wiped her cheeks, gulping for air as she walked.

She was almost at the infirmary before Tim caught up with her. She didn't stop at the sound of his voice – she kept walking, her eyes on the ground, until fell into step beside her.

"Hey," he said, catching her arm. "You forgot your comlock."

Helena stopped, turning to take it from him. "Thanks," she muttered.

"And _I'm_ sorry," he said, his hand on her shoulder. "I didn't mean to upset you."

She nodded, brushing her hair out of her face. It stuck to her damp cheeks in long, golden strands.

"Do you have any coffee?" he asked, tilting his head toward the infirmary. She nodded again. "Come on. You can make me a cup. I snagged your dessert on the way out."

So Helena ended up doing exactly what she'd cautioned herself against doing – she sat in her "poky little room" with Tim, drinking coffee, eating oatmeal cookies, and telling him about John the same way he had told her about his ex-wife. It was something the Helena Russell of eight years ago would never have done, but the years following Breakaway had taught her that holding everyone at arm's length was often more dangerous than letting them in.

"I don't know where we went wrong," she admitted, toying with her napkin. "We just seemed to lose each other somewhere."

"Before we left Alpha?" Tim asked, shifting his lanky frame in his chair, trying to get comfortable. Like John, he was forever cursing the base's interior designer.

Helena frowned. "I don't think so. I think afterward…when we were trying to make sure everyone had shelter, and water…that first year, when everyone was so exhausted from simply trying to survive…I think then." She sighed. "All I know is that by the time I had a minute to pay attention, he wasn't there anymore."

"He had a lot to worry about. We all did."

Helena nodded. "We still do. It isn't his fault."

"Are you saying it's yours?"

"No." She took a gulp of her coffee, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

"Maybe it's just…run its course."

Helena shook her head, blinking hard. "No. That's the awful part. I don't think it has. We still love each other, but we don't know how to fix it."

"Sometimes," Tim said, reaching for her hand, "you can't fix it."

She nodded, looking into her coffee cup as Tim stood, his hand still around hers. Helena closed her eyes as he bent to kiss her cheek, and she squeezed his fingers as he drew away.

"It's late. I'd better go." Helena looked up at him as his hand found her cheek, and she smiled a little. "Get some sleep, Sister Helen of Perpetual Sorrow."


	3. Part 3

Friday morning brought an e-mail from John. He was flying the next shipment of supplies up to the settlement, and bringing a crew to run some geological tests. He'd take back the ten people who were done their tour. He hoped she didn't mind.

Confused, Helena wrote back. _Why would I mind? Tell me when you're getting in and I'll meet you. _She hesitated, then signed it. _Love, H._

John responded two hours later. _I don't want to disrupt your schedule_, he wrote. _I'm only staying for one night. I thought maybe we could talk. We're hoping to arrive around three o'clock on Monday._

Tim stopped by that afternoon, to invite her and Patty to the Friday night poker game. "We play for potato chips," he explained. "Strictly low stakes."

Helena laughed. "What do you think, Patty?"

"I love Friday night poker," the nurse said, getting up from her desk. "I'll be there."

"And you, Dr Russell?"

Helena shrugged. "Why not."

"Excellent." Tim watched as Patty disappeared into one of the exam rooms. "I hear John's paying us a visit."

Helena nodded. "Monday." She paused. "He wants to talk."

Tim nodded, the change in his expression enough to make Helena feel lightheaded. He zipped up his jacket and turned for the door. "See you ladies at seven," he said, raising his voice enough for Patty to hear. Helena watched as he fished a cigarette out of his pocket.

Monday afternoon found Helena standing at the edge of a clearing, bundled in a coat and scarf, watching as John expertly landed his Eagle. She was queasy with nerves – had been all weekend – unsure of whether she should get her hopes up or steel herself for disappointment.

She smiled nervously at him as he stepped out of the Eagle, zipping up a coat over his flight suit, and she moved toward him. "Hi," she said. "Do you need help unloading?"

"I think everything's under control. Just let me grab my bags. Did you walk up here?"

"Yes. It's not bad, once you get moving." She reached for one of his bags, slinging it over her shoulder before he could protest. It bumped against her hip as she walked. "Did Bob send the supplies I asked for?"

"He did. I imagine they'll show up on your doorstep soon."

"Good. We've been running low on a few things."

"Been busy lately?"

Helena shrugged. "Minor injuries, mostly. The usual aches and pains. The boys have been pretty careful." She knew he thought her coming up here was a waste, that her talents were better used at the main settlement, in the lab.

"How's morale?" he asked, after a moment. He kept his eyes on the path they were following, and she wasn't sure if he was asking about her or the camp in general.

"Good," she said, finally.

The rest of the walk passed in silence, until they reached the infirmary and she turned to look at John. "You're staying here, aren't you?"

He hesitated. "Is that a good idea?"

"I assumed you were staying. How are we going to talk if you're staying in the dorm?" Helena held out a hand to him. "Come on."

He relaxed, following her inside and up the narrow staircase to her rooms without another word.

"Here it is," she said, pushing the door open. "Don't get lost in here."

John grinned, looking around the room. It was, Helena had to admit, as austere as the convent Tim teased her about living in. Her books, a sweater draped over the back of the chair, and an abandoned cup of coffee were the only sign that someone lived there.

She set down his bag on the desk, carefully, gesturing to the door at the end of the room. "The bathroom's right through there if you want to freshen up. There's plenty of hot water. I have a quick appointment downstairs, but maybe we can get something to eat after that?"

John nodded. Helena felt an uneasy knot form in the pit of her stomach, and turned for the door. "Hey," he said, and she stopped. "I'm glad you came to meet me."

She smiled at him, reaching out a hand to touch his arm. "I'm glad you came."

The appointment took longer than she'd thought – every now and then a minor issue turned into a lengthy counseling session – and when she came back upstairs she found him stretched out on the bed, asleep. Helena sat down on the edge of the bed, watching him for a moment. He looked just the same – at night, before bed, she'd close her eyes and imagine every line of his face – and it made her heart ache. She thought about going back downstairs, going back to work, but instead she found herself slipping off her shoes and stretching out beside him.

The room was growing dark when he finally stirred, a look of surprise crossing his face as he turned to look at her. "Hi," he said, reaching for her hand, and she smiled at him.

"Hi."

"How long was I asleep?"

"I got back an hour ago. You must have been exhausted." He nodded. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really. You?"

Helena rolled onto her side, facing him, her fingers laced through his. "Not yet." She bit down on her lip, studying him in the near-darkness. "What did you want to talk about?"

He paused, his blue gaze holding hers. "I wanted to apologize," he said, finally, softly, so that for a moment Helena had to close her eyes and draw in a deep breath.

"What for?" she asked, matching her tone to his.

"For the way things have ended up. For the way we've lost each other."

Helena nodded. "I'm sorry too."

"Do you think—" He paused for a moment – "Do you think we can fix it?"

"I'd like to," she said. "I just…don't know where to start."

He nodded, his eyes on the ceiling. Despite the warmth of his hand around hers, Helena felt distance creeping between them again. She sat up, desperate to escape it. "Let's get some dinner," she said. "The canteen will start to fill up soon, and all the good stuff will be gone." He raised an eyebrow at her, and she smiled. "Come on."

Dinner was peppered with greetings from people at camp who, like Helena, hadn't seen their former Commander in months. She could tell he welcomed the distraction, just as she did, and she found herself looking for Tim in the crowd, wondering if he'd stop by to say hello. He had kept his distance that weekend, and Helena was reluctant to think about why.

By the time they walked back to her quarters, the stars were out and the air was bitterly cold. They walked in silence, their feet crunching on the gravel path. Helena remembered a time when they'd walked side by side like this, but in perfect understanding, when a brief look or a touch could speak volumes. She cast a glance at John, her heart sinking with the realization that she had lost the ability to read him.

"Do you really have to go back tomorrow?" she asked, finally, and he turned to look at her.

"Yes," he said. "I'm heading up a team that's going south, and we're still trying to pull everything together."

"You are? For how long?"

"A couple of weeks. That's part of the reason I flew up here today – some of the group that's leaving here is coming with us."

"I see," she said, her voice faint. She moved up the infirmary steps without feeling, reaching for the door without seeing.

"What does that mean?" His voice held an edge to it that immediately made her bristle.

Helena shook her head, unlocking the door and pushing it open. "Nothing, except that I thought part of the reason you came up here was to see me, not to shuttle your team around. I guess I should have known better."

"Helena—" He followed her up the stairs, his longer legs taking them two at a time.

"We can't fix things in one night, John."

"We can't fix them at _all_ when we're hundreds of miles apart," he bit out at her, and she felt anger cloud the edges of her vision.

"Don't you dare make this my fault," she said, opening the door to her room. "We left each other, long before I came up here."

He stood silent, in the middle of the room, watching as she pulled off her coat and gloves and tossed them angrily in a corner. "You're right," he said, finally. "We did."

She crossed her arms over her chest, unable to look at him.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said, her eyes on her shoes. "I don't know what to do."

"Come back," he said, suddenly.

Helena shook her head. "Why, so you can leave on a two-week trip the second I land? What does that solve?"

John let out a long breath, nodding. "Maybe…" He stopped, and Helena knew he was about to say the words she was afraid to. "Maybe it just can't be solved," he said.

"Maybe not."

John cleared his throat. "I think I'll stay in the dorm after all," he muttered, reaching for his bags. She watched, silent, as he moved for the door. "Maybe I'll see you in a couple of months, when you get back."


	4. Part 4

Patty was already at her desk by the time Helena made it downstairs the next morning. The nurse, who brought breakfast every morning, greeted her with a full coffee pot and a cheery smile that faded the second she saw Helena's face.

"Are you okay?" Patty asked, her brow creasing with worry.

"Rough night," Helena muttered. She knew she looked terrible – she'd spent the night lying on the bed, fully dressed, staring at the ceiling in tears and then, towards morning, silent resignation.

Patty simply nodded. "We don't have any appointments until almost eleven," she said. "I mean, if you'd rather work upstairs."

"No," Helena said, with traces of the old, cool Dr Russell, "let's go over those procedures again, like we planned."

Ten o'clock passed, and Helena heard John's Eagle fly overhead. She steeled herself and tried to focus on the task at hand. Patty was an enthusiastic student – it was part of the reason Bob and Helena had chosen her for the job – and if she sensed that her teacher was distracted, she didn't let on.

By four o'clock, Helena's head was pounding. She was about to head upstairs when Tim burst through the door, his dark eyes wide.

"There's been an accident," he said. "Kevin Patterson…"

Helena paused, taking in the blood on the front of Tim's shirt. "Are you hurt?"

"No. No, I'm fine. But we need you to come right now."

Helena nodded, grabbing her kit, and turned to Patty. "Can you set things up here? I'll call you when we're on our way back." With Patty's nod, Helena slipped on her coat and followed Tim outside. He jumped into a moon-buggy, and Helena slipped into the seat beside him, balancing her emergency kit on her knee. "What happened?" she asked, bracing herself as Tim took a sharp turn.

Tim shook his head. "Carelessness," he muttered. "We were going to bring him to you, but we're afraid to move him."

Helena nodded. She hadn't confronted many serious injuries during her months at the camp. As she'd told John, the Alphan men were, for the most part, a cautious bunch. But as she encountered Kevin Patterson, surrounded by his crew, her stomach lurched. He was bleeding from a gaping wound in his thigh. Rudimentary first-aid had probably saved his life, but she wasn't sure she could save his leg.

As she worked over him, she started to question whether she could save him at all. In addition to the wound in his leg, Patterson had also sustained trauma to his chest and abdomen. Helena wanted to ask what happened – instead, she knelt on the ground beside her patient, her knees in a pool of his blood, and tried to stabilize him enough to move him back to the infirmary.

She brought him back three times before she had to admit defeat.

Helena sat back on her heels, covered in blood, and looked up at the men who'd been watching her. "I'm sorry," she said. "I can't…" She cleared her throat. "Can someone tell me the time?"

"Four fifty-two," one of the men said, turning away. "You've been here half an hour."

Helena nodded. "Thank you." She drew a blanket over her patient's face and moved to stand, feeling her knees give out in the cold. Someone caught her arm, held her up, and she stood for a moment, flexing her legs. Her fingers were numb. Helena peeled off her latex gloves with a snap. The cuffs of her coat were stiff with blood; it was almost black against the Alpha-issue blue Gore-Tex of her jacket.

"Helena." Tim's voice made her look up, and she turned away from the scene.

"You're going to have to file a report," she said.

"I know the procedure, yes."

"What happened?"

"He got pinned," one of the other men said before Tim could answer. "He wasn't watching. You can't see behind the load like that when you're driving. He was in the wrong place, they backed up." He made a smacking motion with his hands, and Helena felt sick, visualizing the accident. She could see Patterson's blood, smeared on the rock face behind them.

Helena swallowed nausea and despair, looking at the men. Most of them were physicists, botanists, computer technicians. Not miners or carpenters or farmers. She wondered suddenly if settling a new planet would be the end for them, rather than the beginning.

She felt herself slipping back behind the mask of professionalism that allowed her to function in situations like this, and she turned to Tim again. "We'll need a couple of people to help move him down to the infirmary," she said. "I'll have to notify someone and have them send up an Eagle for him."

He nodded. "Is there a point? He doesn't have any family."

Helena nodded, realizing Tim was right. Alphans were scattered all over the universe – at least by burying Kevin here, his friends would remember him. "Do whatever you think best, then," she said.

"I'll sort this out, then drive you back."

She shook her head. "I can walk, it's fine."

"Helena, it's freezing out here."

"I can walk," she said, her voice hard. "I need to."

Tim took a step back from her, surprised, and she bent to pick up her emergency kit, tucking it under her arm and starting back toward the camp. As she walked, she called Patty, to tell her they wouldn't need to operate after all. Patty was sitting at her desk when Helena stumbled inside, half an hour later.

"Oh my God. You're _covered_!" Patty exclaimed, jumping out of her chair.

"It was a mess," Helena said, slipping off her coat. She stood holding it, unsure of what to do with it. She didn't have another one, and she wished she'd thought to take it off.

"We can try and get it out," Patty said, taking it from her. "Your sweater, too. And your pants."

Helena nodded. "I think they're ruined." Her shoes were caked with dirt and blood, and she kicked them off, tossing them in a garbage can.

Helena took a cup of tea upstairs with her and ran a hot bath. Her hands were still stiff with cold, and no matter how hard she tried to stop, she kept shivering. She sank into the hot water before the tub was done filling, sliding down in the tub until the water was up at her chin. Eventually, she stopped shaking enough to sip the tea properly, and she sat listening to water drip from the spigot, trying not to think about the last twenty-four hours.

When the water cooled, she pulled the plug and crawled into bed, her heart aching for John, for herself, but most of all for everyone who had hoped that their new home would bring a brighter future.

* * *

Helena and Patty attended the memorial service for Kevin Patterson the next evening. It was held in the canteen, organized by many of the men who'd been at the scene the day before. Afterward, they thanked her for trying to save him. "It's my job," she told them. "And if any of you need anything – if you need to talk about any of it – please come see me."

They nodded, though she knew they weren't likely to come. On Alpha, she could have ordered them to undergo counseling. Here, where the order of things was so different, she could only suggest it.

She caught Tim's eye on her way out. He nodded at her, briefly, but made no move to speak to her, so she pulled on her thin jacket and headed for home. Patty had been unable to salvage her winter coat, and the two sweaters she was wearing did nothing to keep out the chill.

Helena was checking her e-mail when she heard a knock at the downstairs door. She found Tim standing on the step, his shoulders hunched against the cold. She opened the door to him and beckoned him inside.

"Hi," he said. "I brought you the accident report."

Helena nodded, taking the disk he offered her. "Thanks." She paused. "I'm sorry about yesterday. For being so…abrupt."

He shrugged. "It's okay."

"No, it isn't. It wasn't your fault. I had a lot on my mind to begin with, and then…" She let out a long breath. "I was upset because I couldn't help Kevin."

"I know." Tim shifted on his feet. "So things didn't go well with John?"

"That's an understatement," she said.

He was quiet for a minute. "I'm sorry about that."

Helena shook her head, smiling a little. "No, you aren't."

"Am I that transparent?"

"I'm afraid so."

Tim took a step toward her. "And here I thought I was doing a brilliant job of hiding it," he said, his hand reaching out to cup her elbow, drawing her toward him. Helena closed her eyes as his mouth touched hers, and without meaning to she felt herself lean into the kiss.

Helena drew back after a moment, a little breathless and suddenly embarrassed at the desire she saw in his dark eyes. "Tim," she said, her voice soft, "I can't…."

"What's stopping you now?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I've been with John for eight years. I still love him. I can't just switch that off."

"I'm not asking you to," he said.

"So what are you asking?"

He reached up to touch her cheek, and she felt calluses on his fingertips that she hadn't noticed before. "I'm asking you to be open to other possibilities. Can you do that?"

She looked up at him, her mind crowded with emotions – attraction for Tim, anger at John, her own loneliness. "I don't know."

His hand left her cheek, and he stepped away from her. "Think about it," he said.

"Okay," she said, watching as he stepped through the door. Helena went back upstairs with the disk, trying to remember if she'd felt as confused at seventeen as she suddenly did at forty-seven.

* * *

Helena read Tim's report late the next afternoon, during a lull. She had written her own medical report, which included an assessment of Kevin Patterson's injuries as well as safety recommendations for the crew – she knew she'd have to give it to Tim as well as the Council. And as she read his report she realized that he was well aware of what had gone wrong two days before. He'd been the driver.

Now she sat back in her chair, her heart hammering in her chest. He hadn't said a word to her – none of them had. They had known it wasn't his fault, that Patterson had been careless. But it didn't change how terrible she knew he must feel.

She thought of the evening before, of the way he'd looked at her before he disappeared out the door. John hadn't looked at her that way in close to a year – or perhaps even longer than that.

Helena looked at the clock. It was nearly five-thirty, nearly the end of shift. She could hear Patty packing up for the day. Decisively, Helena pushed back her chair and left her office.

"Time to go already?" she asked, and the nurse smiled at her.

"Yeah. I'm starving, and I heard a rumor there's fish at the canteen." Patty paused, shrugging on her coat. "Do you want to come?"

Helena smiled, shaking her head. "I think I'll take my chances on whatever's left. I feel like a walk."

Patty nodded, picking up her comlock. "Okay. See you tomorrow."

Alone, Helena tidied up, shut down her computer, and went upstairs to get her coat. It was nearly dark when she left the infirmary, locking the door behind her, and she could feel the temperature dropping.

Tim's little house was at the opposite end of the village to hers, and she passed several groups of people, coming off their shift, as she walked. They waved and nodded at her, and she waved back, wondering if they knew where she was headed.

He answered the door so quickly she thought he might have seen her coming up the path.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi." She stepped inside, her face stinging at the temperature change. She could see he'd built a fire. "I read your report."

He nodded.

"Are you all right?" she asked, her hands still in her pockets.

"I will be," he said. "Eventually."

"Good."

"Is that why you came?"

Helena paused, trying to work up the courage to say what she wanted to. "No," she said, finally. "I'm here about those other possibilities."

* * *

Later, Helena lay nestled against him on his couch, tucked cozily under a blanket, and wondered if she'd done the right thing. She felt a sudden, intense stab of guilt, recalling similar evenings she and John had spent on Alpha, but she brushed those away. They'd been years ago, and although their house had a big, beautiful stone fireplace, she couldn't recall a time they'd ever curled up in front of it together.

"You okay?" Tim asked, his hand resting gently on the back of her neck.

Helena nodded. "I think so." She turned her head, resting her chin on his chest, and smiled at him. "Yes."

"Good," he said softly, running a finger along her cheekbone. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation, thinking how relieved she was that of all the things he'd said to her in the last two hours – mostly about the way she looked – he had not said he loved her. She had decided that she didn't want him to, because she didn't think she could say it back.

"How's the guilt factor?" he asked, after a moment, his hand sliding under the blanket, down her back.

"Currently non-existent," she murmured. "Yours?"

"Oh, I gave up guilt years ago," he said.

"At least one of us has."

"You don't have anything to feel guilty about," Tim said, his expression serious. "You said yourself it's pretty much over."

She nodded. "It is. And if you don't mind, I'd rather not think about it."

Tim chuckled. "Fine by me."

Helena sat up a little, biting on her lip. "You know I have to go back in three months."

"I know. That's okay." He smiled. "You know I'm never going back."

She nodded, smiling back at him. "And that's okay."

"Good. Then everything's okay."

"So far," she said, resting against him again. She closed her eyes, drowsy, and let the beating of his heart lull her to sleep.


	5. Part 5

Helena knew word traveled fast between the camp and the main settlement, and she wanted to be as discreet as possible about her love life. Already well aware that she and John were fodder for town gossip, she knew that what she was doing now would only fuel the fire. And yet she couldn't stop herself. Tim was as generous as he was direct; he asked only for her company, and he had eyes and ears for her alone while he was in it.

Every now and then she'd give herself a shake and wonder exactly what she was doing – if she was being fair to John or to Tim. Helena wasn't used to being selfish. For eight years she had put Alpha's needs, and even John's, ahead of her own. It never once occurred to her that she could, if she wanted, stay at the camp when her six months were up. She didn't allow herself the luxury of contemplating a future there, or what would happen once she returned to her house in the valley. Instead, she decided to concentrate on each day as it came.

"Does it bother you?" she asked Tim once, as they spent a lazy evening together in his tiny house. "That we have a…deadline?"

Tim chuckled. "No. It probably should, but it doesn't." He drew her against him. "Sometimes it's nice to know exactly where you stand."

"Sometimes," Helena agreed. "But what if we change our minds?"

"Then we change our minds," he said. "But we won't. The things we want are too different. You'd lose your mind bandaging fingers up here, and I'd lose my mind living in the valley. And besides, it doesn't have to be for life. Sometimes it can just be for fun."

Sometimes, she'd wake up in the middle of the night and think of John. She'd lie in the dark, listening to Tim's even breathing – or, if she was alone, to the almost deafening silence - and wonder how John's trip south had gone, whether he was sleeping well, if he was looking after himself. She had not heard from him since the day he'd walked out of her room.

She had, however, heard from her friends in the valley. Maya e-mailed her regularly, and told her John seemed fine. Medical's head nurse and one of Helena's closest female friends, Clara Mitchell, kept her up-to-date with all the latest gossip. Helena had asked Clara, before she left, to keep an eye on John. _He's doing okay_, Clara wrote when John had returned from his trip. _I think the two of you are crazy to give up after all you've been through, but what do I know?_

Helena mulled over Clara's words one frigid afternoon as she sat with Tim and a group from the village, playing cards. What did any of them know, she wondered. What had any of them known when they were drifting through space all those years, simply trying to survive? What had Luke Ferro and Anna Davis known when they'd left Alpha with nothing but each other and stolen supplies?

"Helena," Tim said, giving her a nudge. "Your turn."

She looked at her cards. "I'm out," she said, placing her cards on the table and getting up. She stood at the window, listening as the group kept the game going, and thought again about those years. She thought of the danger and the adventure, but also of the days and weeks where nothing much happened, where they drifted aimlessly toward their fate. It was during those days she'd fallen in love with John; when somehow, between command conferences and dinner with Victor, the two of them had joined hearts and minds and stood prepared to face whatever the universe flung at them.

The irony, she supposed, was that they had not counted on the universe offering them a chance at a normal life.

* * *

Six weeks later, Alan Carter sent a message letting her know he was coming up for a few days to deliver supplies. _I hear it's bloody cold up there_, he wrote. _I hope Tim still makes that whiskey. I'm going to need it to keep the blood circulating. _

Helena almost wrote back that Tim's attempts at "whiskey" were as vile as Tony's attempts at beer, but she stopped herself and instead suggested Alan e-mail Tim to find out for himself. And then she asked him if he'd mind bringing up an extra winter coat, since she still had not managed to find one that fit.

"Alan's coming up," she told Tim as they ate dinner in the canteen that night. They'd been sitting with Patty and a few others, who were good-naturedly fighting over the last of the dessert.

"I hear. He wants to take back some of my brew." Tim laughed as Helena made a face. "Oh, come on. It's getting better."

"You're condemning him to liver failure," she said. "It's bad enough that you haven't managed to quit smoking."

"I'm down to two a day," he said. "None of them in your presence."

Helena opted not to acknowledge the habit. Instead, she took a sip of coffee. "Anyway, we're going to have to…cool it…while he's here."

"Are you ashamed of me?" he asked, his eyes twinkling devilishly.

"He's friends with John, is all. I don't really want him to know."

"I don't see how it's any of his business."

"Exactly. It isn't. It isn't anyone's business."

"Is that guilt I see rearing its ugly head, Dr Russell?"

Helena looked down at her coffee cup. She was about to answer when Patty sat down beside her, a plate piled high with ginger cake. So instead of answering Tim, she took the piece Patty offered her. Ginger, she found, could be as good for her conscience as it was for her stomach.

* * *

Helena had planned to meet Alan's Eagle, just as she had John's, but a sudden viral outbreak at the camp kept her tending to fevers and sniffles for the afternoon. The freezing temperatures had prompted her to make house calls, a move that Patty called "very Little House on the Prairie", so she spent most of that day walking from house to house, leaving behind packages of cough suppressant and ibuprofen.

The next day she watched Alan and Tim pass the infirmary on their way to see the mine. She wondered what the two of them would talk about. She knew Alan was going to take Tim and a group of geologists over the mountains; they had gone prospecting earlier in the year, before the Council, with Tim's input, had chosen to establish a mine in the spot they were in now. Tim had told her there were traces of copper and other ore in one of the neighboring ranges, and that in a year or two the camp would move to a different spot to minimize the impact on the environment.

They returned two days later, cheerful and red with cold. They stopped by the infirmary on their way to the canteen to invite Helena and Patty to dinner.

"That sounds great," Helena said. "But I wanted to ask you two for a favor first," she said. "There are some boxes of supplies in the storeroom that are a little too heavy for us…"

"Lead the way," Alan said, in a mock British accent. "We live to serve."

She showed them what she wanted, then slipped back into her office to shut off her computer and get her coat. A slight noise in the doorway made her turn, and she found Tim leaning against the frame, smiling at her.

"What?" she asked, reaching for her scarf.

"Nothing, really." He crossed the office to where she stood, pressing her against the desk. "I missed you."

"You aren't supposed to miss me, remember? That's the deal." She laughed a little as he drew her toward him, and shivered as his cool fingers reached under her sweater to find the tender skin of her lower back. She was lost for a moment as his mouth touched hers, enjoying the sensation, until she heard Alan's voice in the hallway.

"I think that's everything, Doc—" he said as he came through the doorway, and she felt Tim step away from her. Helena knew the instant she saw Alan's expression that he'd seen everything, and she felt her face grow hot as she straightened her sweater.

"Oh," he said. "Sorry to interrupt."

Helena nodded, finally working up the courage to look at Alan, whose eyes were still on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tim move for the door.

"Maybe Patty and I will go on ahead and get a table," he suggested. "You can meet us in a minute?"

"Sure," Helena said. "That sounds fine."

Alan waited until the door shut behind Patty and Tim before he spoke. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice low.

She drew herself up. "I don't think it's any of your business," she said.

"What about John?"

"It's none of his business, either." She saw the look of surprise on Alan's face, and she suddenly wondered what, if anything, John had told his friend about them. "It hasn't been since he came up here."

She watched him digest her words, a frown creasing his forehead. "Was this…going on when he came up here?"

"No," Helena said. "We were just friends. We're still just…friends."

"You looked like pretty cozy friends to me."

Helena shook her head. "Alan, I don't think I have to justify my life or my relationships to you, of all people."

Alan laughed, a harsh sound that filled the room. "No, that's true. You don't." He sighed, shaking his head. "John still loves you, Helena. I think he was hoping you two could work it out."

"Really?" She couldn't keep the note of bitterness from creeping into her voice. "You'd never know it."

"Helena, you know how he is…"

"No. That's just it, Alan. I don't. I used to, but I don't anymore." She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly chilly. "Do you know he never once asked me to stay when I decided to come up here? He has never once said he missed me. So pardon me for thinking he doesn't."

Alan apparently didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

"Look, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell him about this," she said after a moment. "It's not a secret, but I think it should come from me."

Alan nodded. "What are you going to do when your six months are up?"

Helena shrugged. "Go back. Patty can take care of things up here by herself, with another nurse. She's going to be as good as any doctor."

"And Tim?"

"Oh," Helena shook her head. "He's staying. He's happy up here. He doesn't need me to complicate things. So…when I go back, that's it."

Alan raised an eyebrow.

"It's what we agreed on." She shifted on her feet, twisting the ring she wore on her little finger. "It's what I wanted."

* * *

That night, she lay awake and wondered if Alan had meant what he said – that John still loved her and wanted to try again. She thought of all the times he'd risked his life for her – and the times she'd done the same for him. They had faced so much together, hand-in-hand, in sickness and in health.

She thought of the other Helena Russell they'd encountered, on another Earth. The one who had married John Koenig, and lost him shortly afterward. She had seen herself, worn down by years of hard work and sorrow, die in John's arms. For years the look of tenderness she'd seen in his eyes had reaffirmed her belief that they should be together. She had seen it again the first time they'd made love. She had seen it when she was sick with pneumonia, stranded on Earth in a time that wasn't theirs, and afterward, when she was recovering safely in Medical. She had not seen it again since they'd left Alpha.

Victor Bergman, their old and dear friend, had told Helena once that she and John were fated to be together. But Victor had not survived as the Victor in this other world had, and over the years she had turned his theory over and over in her mind. Now she wondered if her fate was not to be with John, but to be apart from him.

She sat up in bed, hugging her knees. How could they have come so far, but lost so much? Was it because they were both bound by their obligations to Alpha? For a long time she had told herself that the community had to come first – she had to be there for her patients, for her colleagues, and for John. That feeling had not dissipated after they'd found their new home. Coming up here was the first decision she'd made in eight years for herself. Being with Tim was the second. She regretted neither, but in the dark solitude of her room, sometimes pondered the wisdom of both.

Helena shook her head, crawling out of bed and flipping on the bathroom light to peer at herself in the mirror. Her reflection, as classically beautiful as ever, looked back at her. She wasn't sure what had changed, or when it had happened, but somewhere she had lost her way, and with it, John.


	6. Part 6

Helena caught up with Alan at breakfast the next morning. She had no sooner managed to get some sleep than her alarm had jerked her awake. She had a feeling she looked terrible, but Alan didn't let on.

"Do you have a minute?" she asked him, pulling up a chair across from him.

"For you?" Alan grinned at her. "Always."

Helena hesitated, suddenly, then swallowed a gulp of coffee and forged ahead. "Did you mean what you said yesterday – about John?"

"Helena, I wouldn't make that up."

She nodded. "No, I don't suppose you would. I just…I want to be sure."

"You'll have to ask him, then. I'm just his mate. What he says when we're flying or having a beer isn't the same as what he tells you."

"Obviously," she muttered. She sighed, suddenly, rubbing her forehead. "He doesn't tell _me_ anything."

Alan shrugged. "Look, what you said yesterday was true. It's none of my business. So I think I'll stay out of it, if you don't mind."

She nodded. "You're right. Sorry. I just…."

"Do you want one last opinion before I retire forever from my job as Ann Landers?" He grinned at her as she nodded. "I think that when you get home, you should talk to him. That's all. You might be surprised."

Helena nodded once, reaching to squeeze Alan's hand. "Maybe," she said. She looked up as Tim sat down beside her, and the way he looked at her made her wonder if he could read her mind.

* * *

"You aren't supposed to be upset about leaving this place," Tim said on her last afternoon, watching her pack her books in a box. "You're supposed to be thrilled at the idea of getting back to civilization."

Helena smiled at him ruefully. "I know. But I don't know what civilization holds for me."

"Well, I can guarantee you it won't be anything with tentacles."

"I hope you're right, but you never know." She sat down on the edge of the bed, her shoulders drooping a little, and he sat down beside her, his hand covering hers. She looked at their fingers, entwined on the blanket, thinking that they had been right to end it before she left. They both knew exactly where they stood now.

"Did you figure out where you're going to stay?" he asked, after a minute.

She shrugged. "John's away for a week or so…so until he gets back I'll stay at our house. And then after that…Clara said there's room with her, if I want it."

Tim gave her fingers a squeeze. "I hope it works out."

"It will." She smiled at him, suddenly. "Are you going to miss me?"

"I'm not allowed to miss you. That's the deal, remember?"

"Oh, come on. Not even a little?"

He shook his head. "Not even a little." He reached up to touch her cheek. "Besides, once you're gone I can start smoking again."

By the time Alan landed the Eagle back at the main settlement, Helena was glad John was on a trip south. She couldn't imagine what she'd say to him if the craft had landed and he'd been there waiting for her. Or even worse, if he hadn't.

As the hatch opened, she saw Clara and Maya waiting for her in the spring sunshine. She smiled and waved at them, picking up her bags.

"Looks like the welcoming committee's here," Alan commented.

Helena laughed. "I guess. What do you want me to do with my things?"

Alan looked around. "You don't have much. We'll get it back to you. Do you want me to take the books to Medical?" She nodded. "And the rest? Your house?"

Helena bit her lip. "For now. I guess."

Alan nodded, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Go hook up with the girls. We're late – they've probably been waiting a while."

Later that evening she sat in her living room, curled up on the sofa with a glass of wine. Alone. Everyone she'd met had invited her for dinner, but she'd taken a rain-check and gone home to shower and unpack. She'd catch up with Bob the next day at Medical, Maya at lunch, Clara at dinner.

The house looked just the same. She could see that the rosebush they'd planted last year had survived the winter – there were tiny yellow buds on some of the branches. Otherwise, nothing had changed. Her books and music were still mixed with John's. A picture of the two of them still sat on the fireplace mantel. She wondered, briefly, who would take it when she packed up her things in a week.

Helena had intended to be ready to move when John got home, but she couldn't bring herself to sort through her belongings. So she left them where they were, on shelves and in drawers, and instead spent the day of his homecoming cooking his favorite dinner.

When he stepped through the front door, she was standing in the living room, stoking the fire she'd built. She smiled at him, suddenly nervous, and he stopped in the doorway.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi."

"You said maybe you'd see me when I got back…" She had to stop and clear her throat. "And I thought I'd make sure you did."

He nodded, unsure of what to do next.

"I made dinner," she said, after a minute. "It's in the oven. I thought you might be hungry."

"Thanks," he said, putting his bags down. "It was a long flight."

She nodded, heading for the kitchen, desperate to stay occupied with something.

"You look different," he said, suddenly. "Good, I mean."

Helena shrugged. "I'm not. Different, I mean."

"Maybe it's your hair…I don't know."

She reached up to touch the clip that held it off her face. "Maybe." She smiled, reaching for a pair of oven mitts. "You're tan."

"It was hot." He leaned a hip against the counter, watching her. "Did you get back last week?"

She nodded, setting the dish on the counter. She felt her chest constrict, and she fought to take a deep breath. "I was going to pack everything up," she said. "But I couldn't do it. I wanted to wait until you got back."

"That's okay," he said.

Helena turned away from him, pulling off the oven mitt to wipe her eyes, suddenly, and then reaching for the hot dish without thinking. She cursed under her breath as the dish burned her hand, nearly dropping it.

"Hey, careful." John reached past her to turn on the tap, running cold water into the sink. She put her hand underneath it, wincing a little as her palm turned red. She stood at the sink as John found some ice. "Come sit down for a minute."

"It'll get cold," she said, nodding at the dinner. He handed her the ice, wrapped in a dishtowel, and put the food back in the oven. She followed him into the living room, sitting nervously on the opposite end of the couch from him. She felt her eyes blur with tears again, and she blinked furiously. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I don't know what I was thinking. I'm hardly the Happy Housewife."

John let out a long breath, his elbows resting on his knees. "It's okay."

"No, it isn't. I just…" Helena shook her head. "I don't know what I'm doing. We're – we're done, aren't we?"

"It seems that way," he said, his voice husky.

"But I don't want to be," she said, drawing breath in a sob. Her hand throbbed.

He looked up at her, surprised. "Don't you?"

Helena shook her head. "No. I never did."

John was silent, studying his hands, the table in front of them, everything in the room but her.

"Do you?" she asked, finally, terrified of the answer. When he looked up at her again, she saw traces of sadness on his face; it blended with confusion after a moment, and he shook his head.

"I shouldn't have let you go," he said. "I should have asked you to stay."

Helena gulped. "Why didn't you?" she demanded. "I waited and waited for you to say something, and you never did. If you'd just said that one thing…."

"I asked you to come back," he said. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"No." She shook her head, angry, knowing she was seconds away from losing control. "There were months where you never said you missed me, you never said you wished I was with you. There was _nothing_. It's not the same as you asking me to come back."

"I didn't think you wanted to stay." His voice was hard, pressing against the guilt in her heart, and she looked away, a hand over her mouth. "You couldn't wait to get out of here."

"I thought it was best," she whispered, when she could speak again. "We couldn't go on the way we were."

"No." His voice was strangely quiet. "You're right."

The ice was melting in her hand, soaking her pant leg, and she got up to put it in the sink. "I'll pack my things in the morning," she said, without turning around. "You can stay here."

Helena heard him get up, and she thought he'd leave the room. She waited to hear his feet on the stairs, or to hear the front door close, but she didn't. Instead, she felt his hand on her shoulder.

"Don't," he said, and when Helena looked up at him he reached to wipe the tears from her cheek. "Stay."

"You might not want me to now," she said, looking away.

"I know about Tim."

She nodded, biting her lip. "Who told you?"

"Does it matter?"

Helena cleared her throat. "No. But if it was Alan I'll kill him."

He almost smiled at that – she saw a flicker of it at the corner of his mouth. "It wasn't Alan."

"I thought you'd be angry."

"Oh, I was angry," John admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. "And I was hurt. But I've had a month to think about it, and four months to think about the way I walked away the last time I saw you."

"And?"

"And I have to be honest with myself. I treated you like shit. Not just that night, either, I know that. I took all my insecurities out on you, all the doubts I had about settling here, because I thought you could handle it. When we were on Alpha, you always seemed to understand. I didn't know why things were different here."

Helena nodded, wiping her eyes with the wet dishtowel from the sink. "I'm not blameless either." She turned to touch his cheek. "I expected you to be the same, but how could you be when everything here is so different for us?"

He shrugged. "That's no excuse. I'm not that different. Things aren't that different."

"They are," she said. "You aren't Commander anymore. We have a home now." She sighed, wiping her cheeks. "I keep thinking about that other Earth we found all those years ago. That other…me…and how Victor always told me we were meant to be together."

John smiled at the mention of his old friend. "Victor loved the idea of fate."

Helena nodded. "But that other me, and that other you….They'd lost each other. She lost him when he died."

He reached for her hand. "She did. But she found him in the end. So maybe Victor was right. Maybe we are just like them – we had to lose each other to find each other again."

"Maybe." She felt him lace his fingers through hers. "We have a long way to go before we really find each other."

"I know," he said, and when his bright blue eyes met hers, Helena saw tenderness in them that she hadn't seen for a year. It took her breath away, just as it had the first time she'd seen it. "But we'll get there."


End file.
